


Crema Verse Prompt Fill #28

by twobirdsonesong



Series: Crema Verse [31]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barista Blaine, Crema verse, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked you: the prompt with blaine dressed up for halloween was adorable!! Could you maybe do a follow up of what happens that evening at Blaine’s place?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crema Verse Prompt Fill #28

“Hey you,” Blaine says when he opens the front door at Kurt’s knock.  His eyes are bright and shining – eager – and before Kurt can take a single step inside, Blaine ducks in and presses a soft, sweet kiss to Kurt’s cheek and then to his mouth.  Blaine tastes faintly of sugar and cloves and something lingeringly tart and Kurt surges against him.  He can’t help it.  Kurt loves this, how easy this is already, to just fall into Blaine – his arms, his lips, the solid heat of his body – as though he’s known Blaine forever and not just under two months.

“Hi,” Kurt murmurs when he finally breaks away for a breath.  His lips are tingling and so are his toes and he finally gets a good look at Blaine.

Blaine is still in his Halloween costume from that morning, only he’s lost the suit jacket and he’s barefoot.  The sleeves of his crisp, white shirt are rolled up to his elbows and his hair is starting to break free from its careful styling; curls are falling across his forehead and brushing his temples.  Kurt’s mouth goes a little dry at the sight of Blaine’s strong, bare forearms – so subtly erotic that it sends a low ache through Kurt’s belly – and the stubble that’s darkening his jaw and upper lip.

“You taste like apples,” Kurt says, because he can’t think of anything but the taste of Blaine’s lips, and Blaine grins, all teeth and squinty eyes and round cheeks.  He is so lovely it hurts.

“I made cider.”  Blaine’s enthusiasm, his joy, from that morning hasn’t waned a bit and Kurt wants to pinch his cheeks and adjust his purple bowtie and kiss him senseless.  He wants to take Blaine outside and jump through puddles and fall into piles of leaves just so he can pluck them from Blaine’s hair.  He wants to get cold from the autumn chill just so he can get warm again with Blaine pressed close under a blanket.

“You made cider?”

“Yep.  It’s on the stove, ready and waiting.  I already had a taste and it’s almost perfect.  It’s always better the second day, when there’s time for the spices to really develop their flavor.  But, uh, I didn’t think to make it yesterday.”  Blaine shrugs in that painfully self-deprecating way of his and Kurt’s heart hurts.  It’s the move that says:  _I didn’t think I’d have anyone to share it with._

Kurt reaches out and curves his hand around the back of Blaine’s neck.  Blaine’s pupils dilate as Kurt tugs him up into another kiss.  Blaine shudders against him and makes a low, desperate sound against his lips as Kurt surges inside, fast and fiercely possessive.  Kurt slides his tongue along Blaine’s – wet and hot and so fucking intimate it hurts – and he licks the taste of cider right out of Blaine’s mouth.  Kurt swears he can feel Blaine’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks.

“Well,” Kurt pants as he pulls away with a slick sound that sends a shiver down his spine.  “I think it tastes just fine.”

Blaine is breathing heavily, his lips are wet with Kurt’s saliva, and there are two spots of color pinking his cheeks beautifully.  “Kurt,” he says, voice low and rough, and his eyes finally open again.  They’ve gone that deep whiskey-gold color and Kurt’s hand tightens around the back of Blaine’s neck at the look of longing and  _want_  so clear in them.  There’s so much they haven’t done yet, and so many nights when Kurt goes home hard and aching and desperate for more of Blaine – more of his hands and lips and anything else he’ll give him.  But Kurt can’t push, won’t push; there’s so much time for those things in the future.

“We should-” Blaine clears his throat and his fingers loosen their grip on Kurt’s hips.  “We should get started.”

***

There are two big, round, harvest-orange pumpkins sitting on the low coffee table in the living room.  Pages of The New York Post are spread out across the table as protection from the upcoming mess and there are all sorts of tools and pens and utensils laid out around the pumpkins.  Kurt sort of loves how prepared Blaine is for something as silly as pumpkin carving.  Blaine’s apartment smells of apples and cinnamon and wood smoke even though there’s no fire and no fireplace.  It smells of fall, of crisp afternoon walks through the park with vibrant leaves crunching underfoot.  It smells of thick woolen coats and artfully draped scarves and fingers intertwined to keep warm.

“I ordered us a pizza, I hope that’s ok.  I got a little carried away trying to find the perfect pumpkin to match the one I already had and forgot about dinner.”  Blaine glances over at Kurt from underneath his eyelashes as he sets two steaming mugs of cider down on the table.  There’s even a stick of cinnamon in the mugs and Kurt cannot believe Blaine is real.

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting any company this Halloween.”  His smile is shy and sweet and Kurt hurts a little at how alone Blaine seems to have been all this time, how little he’s gotten to share with anyone at all.

All these years in New York and Blaine has been right here, just out of reach.  How many times has Kurt passed that Starbucks on his way to somewhere else?  How many times has he casually glanced through those big windows and not seen the barista with the dark, curly hair and adorable smile?  How many times have they passed each other on the crowded streets of Manhattan and didn’t notice each other – too many people between them for their eyes to meet?  How has Blaine been this close to him and so far away for so long?  Kurt wonders if he would have been ready for someone like Blaine at eighteen, or if he wouldn’t have understood the quiet, reserved boy at all.

“I’m here now,” Kurt says, and the smile that curves Blaine’s still kiss-swollen lips is like dappled sunlight on autumn leaves.

 _And I’m not going anywhere_ , he thinks.  The way Blaine blinks slowly at him tells Kurt that Blaine maybe heard it anyway.

“You’ve, uhm, done this before, I’m assuming?”  Blaine asks as he hands Kurt one of the knives from the table.

“Yep.”  Kurt has already drawn a circle around the top of the pumpkin with one of the pens, marking where he’s going to cut the lid.  “My dad used to take me out to a pumpkin patch when I was little.  He’d let me pick whatever I wanted.  Apparently I always went for the pumpkins that were too big for me to pick up.”  Kurt shrugs and laughs.  He remembers his dad just shaking his head at him before picking up the too-large pumpkins and carrying them back to the car.

“That sounds incredible.”

“It was.”  Kurt glances over at Blaine.  He’s biting his lower lip and staring with adorably intense concentration at the pattern he’s drawn on the smoothest face of his pumpkin.  Kurt waits until Blaine isn’t sliding the sharp knife along the thick skin of the pumpkin before he leans over and smacks a wet, noisy kiss against Blaine’s cheekbone. Blaine startles, but the grin that spreads across his face makes Kurt’s heart stutter.  Blaine presses a light kiss to the tip of Kurt’s nose and then brushes his lips across Kurt’s cheekbone, as gentle as a fall breeze, before he turns back to his pumpkin.  Kurt stares at Blaine’s profile for a long moment, at the blush staining his cheeks and the way Blaine’s lips twitch as he fights to stop smiling, until his own fingers stop trembling enough for him to get back to working on his design.

It’s been years since Kurt carved a pumpkin, but he still remembers how.  He slops the guts of the pumpkin into the bowl that Blaine set out for them; later they’ll separate out the seeds and bake them in the oven.  Kurt can’t wait to suck the salt from Blaine’s fingertips; he hopes Blaine will let him.

When the pumpkins are carved – Kurt’s with a fairly complicated haunted house and Blaine’s with a clever cat – Blaine pulls out two little candles from a drawer in the kitchen.

“It’s too bad I don’t have a porch I can set these out on,” he says apologetically, placing a candle inside each pumpkin.  He’s got them set up on the cleaned-up coffee table.  “No one else will be able to appreciate them.”

“That’s ok,” Kurt steps up behind Blaine and slides his arms around his waist.  Blaine leans easily into him and Kurt feels the swell of his belly as he takes a deep breath.  “These are just for us anyway.” 

Blaine cranes his neck and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Kurt’s mouth.  “I like that,” he whispers.  “Just for us.”

Kurt closes his eyes as Blaine lights the candles.  He’s pretty sure there are going to be plenty of things to come that are just for them too.


End file.
